


What's Done is Done

by Corycides



Series: 100 Fics in 100 Days [22]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief takes strange forms, so can friendship</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The history books would record Trenton as a victory. It was just a costly one. The injured soldiers outnumbered the whole, limping back into the Bordertown camp on make-shift crutches or carried on litters. The dead came in on wagons, wrapped in bloody canvas and tied with rope. Stacked like cordwood.

Julia stood at the entrance to the encampment and waited, searching bloody, maimed faces for her Tom under a mask of blood or raw flesh. The horribly practical bit of her mind registered coldly that if Tom was too injured to fight, to recover, they wouldn't survive. There wasn't the infrastructure in place to reward veterans with administrative positions. The Generals might give them a pittance from pity – give him three years and they would assure Jason a place in their training camp – but they'd have nothing else.

She didn't care. If Tom was alive, she could cope with anything else. Her fingers knit together, twisting until the bones creaked, and she tried to pray. It felt empty. Since the Blackout it was hard to believe anything was out there listening. Nothing that cared.

It took three days for the army to evacuate. Tom didn't come home.

Julia sat primly in the conservatory and made tea with shaking fingers and single-minded focus. The set had been a gift from Tom, the china so fine the tea glowed amber through it. How cold Tom be dead when she was having tea in his china? That made no sense.

'I'm sorry, Julia' Jeremy said, looking almost ridiculously earnest. He had one of those faces, mobile and someone riding the razor edge between ugly and lovely. His big, neat hands cradled the cup of tea gingerly. 'We looked, but we couldn't find him. He was in charge of munitions, bringing the Trenton stronghold down and...he just didn't get out.'

Julia put her tea down carefully and stood up, smoothing her skirt down with stiff hands.

'I appreciate you coming to tell me,' she said.

He looked at his tea and at her and then swigged it down quickly, nearly choking as he gulped it down. The empty cup clinked onto the table and he stood up.

'If you need anything? Ask for me,' he said. 'Tom was a good man.'

Her eyes felt like coals. She swallowed the sourness in her throat and agreed, her voice wispy and weak, 'He was the best man I knew.'

Jeremy hesitated, shuffling his feet, and pulled out a wrinkled but bright white, hemmed square. He held it out. 'I brought a handkerchief, in case you cried,' he said. 'I figure you'll need it later.'

Damn him. Tears escaped Julia, spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands turned away, hiding behind her hair. Grief pushed its way up out of her in a thick, choking sobs that made it difficult to keep her feet.

Heavy arms went gingerly around her shoulders, more a fence than a hug. 

'It's alright,' he said. 'Let it out.'

'Why?' she spat savagely, trying to drag herself back under control. 'Will it make me feel better.'  
She rubbed viciously at her face with her sleeve, scraping her skin. Jeremy mutely proffered the handkerchief again. 

'No,' he said as she snatched it from him. His voice was barren. 'Nothing will.'

Grief crashed into Julia like a wave, washing anything reasoned, and she crumpled into Jeremy's chest, sobbing grief and snot into the rough uniform. He patted her shoulders awkwardly, about as comforting as a mannequin, but he let her use him as a tissue until she was done with this bout of tears.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered, voice watery. 'I don't do this, I don't cry. There's no time for this, Jason will be home soon and-'

Jeremy shifted. 'I asked Anita to fetch him from the school tent,' he said. 'She could have a sleep-over with Stephen and she'll bring him tomorrow.'

'You had no right,' Julia protested sharply.

'No,' Jeremy agreed. 'I thought you'd want some time to get yourself together though, before you told him.'

Julia pushed him away and wiped her face, blowing her nose with a noisy, resentful snort. Crying hadn't made her feel any better She just felt sick and raw as well as sad. 

'I don't need your help.'

'Of course not,' he said blandly.

She glared at him. 'Don't manage me,' she said. 'I'm not Matheson.'

The flicker of surprise on his face was satisfying for a second. Then Julia was just left with annoyance at wasting even one of her little tidbits of information. It wasn't a particularly useful one, anyone even slightly observant would have noticed it. Still, maybe one day she would need to mildly discomfit Jeremy for some reason and regret this moment.

'Sorry,' she muttered, wiping her hand over her eyes. 'I knew – when he didn't come back? I guess I just thought I could keep putting facing it off another day.'

'Maybe I shouldn't have come,' Jeremy said.

'No.' Julia put her hand on his forearm. 'I appreciate it. If I had to hear it from someone, I'd rather it was a friend.'

He covered her hand with his, fingers rough on her skin, and she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. His mouth was warm and dry, and her lips were salty and desperate. Surprise held him still for a second, but then he was kissing her back. 

He wrapped his arm around her, fingers settling in the hollow of her hip bone, and bent her back over it. She caught his shoulders for balance, the angles of her body shifting pliantly into his, and moved her mouth hungrily over his. Jeremy was a good kisser. She'd wondered, in that almost platonic way where you never really plan to find out. 

Sure that he wasn't going to drop her, she moved her hands up to cradle his face. Her palms cupped his cheeks, fingers digging into his short, thick hair. The way they stood there was no denying the erection that nudged against her hip.

His fingers were tangled in her hair, cupping her skull. He lifted his head just a fraction, so their lips weren't touching but she could feel his breath, hot and strained. 

'I'm probably only gonna ask this once,' he said. 'You sure about this, Julia.'

She stroked her thumbs over his cheekbones and gave him a smile that felt sad. 'I really don't want to have to think any more, Jeremy. I've done nothing but think for days, and I want to stop. OK?'

He nodded slowly. 'I can understand that,' he murmured, bright blue eyes gone dark and tired. 'After a while, you get tried of your own voice.'

How many people had he had to give up on finding, Julie wondered sadly, or found too late. She curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him back into the kiss. There was nothing tentative about it this time.

He pulled her up straight, the hand that had been supporting her sliding down to squeeze her backside roughly. She made a distracted, approving sound in the back of her throat and tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with buttons she couldn't see. More than one went pinging to the floor, torn from shabbily sewn moorings.

Maybe she could do that, sew buttons for a living, she thought bitterly– but just for the moment the cold, little voice was distant and easily ignored.

His chest was broad and his skin hot under her fingers, hair sparse and scattered. She dug her nails into skin, hard enough to made him hiss against her lips. He nudged her back into a wall and tugged her tight skirt up over her thighs and hips. That big, neat hand slid between her thighs, fingers pressing against her through the slick fabric of her panties. She was already wet.

Julia whimpered at the scrape and slide of it, rolling her hips forward into the cup of his hand, and tugged impatiently at his trousers. She didn't want to be seduced or wooed. Just fucked. She got the belt loose, leaving it dangling, and Jeremy pushed her hand away to finish the job.

He dragged her panties down, silk and lace caught between their thighs, and thrust hard into her. It hurt a little, a raw scrape of pain she thought she rather deserved, but that faded. Jeremy fucked roughly, jarring her against the wall and his breath ragged against her throat. The buckle of his belt dug into her thigh with each thrust. 

Wandering hands round a scabbed scrape along his ribs, rough and hot against her palm, and a rough bandage looped grubbily around his gut. It had been a bad fight.

Jeremy looked ridiculously, endearingly, serious, all furrowed brow and worried mouth. Although she probably wouldn't mention that to him, he might not appreciate it.

She curled her leg around his hip, opening herself to him, and pulled him closer. The weight of his body driving her into the wall made her squirm. Sticky, hot pleasure coiled through her body, pooling in the pit of her stomach. Sharp teeth dug into her lower lip as she felt her body flutter and tighten around him.

'Fuck,' Jeremy muttered inelegantly in her ear. He pulled out, ignoring her momentarily impractical protest, and filled her with his fingers instead. His hands weren't as callused as Tom's – the thought flickered through her brain and she shoved it ruthlessly away. She could feel guilt and grief and whatever else later, right now she just wanted the tormenting press and curl of Jeremy touching her.

He pushed against her leg, cock sliding wet and hard against her skin, in time with the twist and thrust of his fingers. His voice in her ear had gone guttural and coarse, whispering promises that twisted her body tighter. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders, fingers clenching in the hard bulge of muscle. The pad of his thumb found her clitoris, scraping over the hooded flesh with a carelessly that almost hurt. 

She threw her head back, gasping as her nerves jangled with pleasure, and felt him spill wet on her thigh, his body shuddering as he leant against her. 

Julia mewled as she came, pushing herself onto Jeremy's fingers and biting her lip hard enough to taste blood. It felt different than usual. Instead of a hot, dizzying spin down into satiated exhaustion, it felt like it washed through her in wave – emptying out the knots and bubbles of grief. She was still sad, that was a bedrock that wouldn't shift, but it didn't feel so brittle. 

So why was she crying again? It was ridiculous, embarrassing – and probably rude – but she couldn't stop. Jeremy just held her and let her cry herself out on his shoulder, apparently immune to how foolish they had to look. He'd found the handkerchief again by the time she sniffled herself to a stop and proffered it to her solemnly.

This time she managed a watery smile. 'Well, this has been dignified,' she said.

He wiped her cheeks gently on the rough cloth and turned away so she could tidy up. Julia wiped her leg and pulled her skirt down, the scrape of fabric on her skin making her shiver, and looked at his back. His shoulders moved under his jacket as he tucked himself in and buckled up.

Julia didn't know what to say, wasn't entirely what to feel.

'Thank you,' she said. 'But I don't want-'

'It's ok,' Jeremy said, turning back around. He smoothed his hand down his shirt so you could hardly see the missing buttons. 'I understand. I'll go now, if you want, but if you or Jason do need anything...?'

'I'll ask,' she promised.

He gave her a chaste kiss on the temple and left, the clack of his boots and the clunk of the door looking leaving Julia lonely and oddly deflated. There were things she should be doing, there were always things to do, but she couldn't think of anything

Two days later Tom came back, limping on a crutch made from a hat-rack and with a new scar running from armpit to waist.


	2. In Doubtful Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two twisty people, a bath and the question 'just how many fucks do you give?'

Sometimes the silence was oppressive, a claustrophobic pillow pressed down over the world. Julia had been used to a world that was rarely truly silent, a world of MP3 players, white noise machines and subtle hum of swaddling electricity. Sometimes she just wanted to scream and smash things, to feel the air with noise.

That would hardly be prudent though. Besides, sometimes silence could be pleasant. 

She sat on the floor of their requisitioned hotel room with her head bowed, hair sliding forwards over her shoulder, as Tom massaged her neck with sure, bony fingers. It was late enough, and high enough, that she couldn't hear the rest of the squad. 

'You should have stayed in Wrentham,' Tom said eventually. He wasn't really annoyed, she could tell. 'It isn't safe here.'

'It isn't safe anywhere,' Julia said. Besides, Wrentham was far, far away from the Generals and she didn't like to slip so far from the orbit of power. She loved Tom, she reached up idly to caress his forearm, but he had all the political instincts of a meerkat. He could spot a lie from a 100 metres, but the knife in the back always caught him by surprise.

He bent down and kissed the crown of her head. It was his way of saying he was glad she was here, even though it was too selfish to say aloud. 

'Since you are here,' he said, fingers trailing down her arms. 'Perhaps you could go and talk to Jeremy? He listens to you.'

The muscles in Julia's shoulders twitched under his fingers. She wondered if he'd noticed, and decided that he had. If he asked, she wouldn't lie. That had always been her tightrope, but he'd never asked. Not once in the last few months.

'Why?' she asked.

His fingers stilled on her forearm and she waited...but today wasn't the day he asked. 'I don't know, but he's been more...erratic than usual.' Another pause and she could feel the whip-tight tension in him. 'It was bad. A bad place, a bad fight.'

'How bad?' she asked, squirming around. His shirt was open and she slid her hand under it, finding the welt of scar tissue along his ribs. It should terrify her, this brutal evidence of his brutal job. Instead it had always been strangely reassuring; this was how badly he was injured and still made it home to her. 'Bad as Trenton?'

'Dirtier,' he said. 'On both sides. Jeremy's taken it hard, though only the Generals are enough in the loop to know why.'

'I'll talk to him,' she promised, getting up onto her knees. An unwelcome niggle of worry pricked at her, but she squashed it down. She caught Tom's face and pulled him down for a kiss. 'Later.'

*****

The hardest part about finding Jeremy was getting the fresh-faced, blushing young recruit to spit out the address for Drexel's latest hovel. It wasn't, apparently, a fit place for an officer's wife. A level glare, weighted with all her irritation at her worth being gifted her by Tom, and the suggestion he would not fare well if he let an officer's wife get lost in unfriendly Boston streets wrung the location out of him. 

Another hotel. Drexel did like to make his more...influential...clients comfortable, and Julia supposed the beds were convenient for the prostitutes. Drexel eyed her with dislike when she walked into his office. 

'What do you want.'

'I need to talk to Captain Baker,' she said, ignoring the sad little scuffling sounds beneath the desk. Rather than having to look at Drexel's face she glanced around the room, an eyebrow tilting as she recognised the oils on the wall. 'I was told he was self-destructing here.'

Drexel slouched back, greasy sweat on his face, 'And what business is that of yours, Mrs Neville? Looking to upgrade to a better model?'

She gave a contemptuous look. 'Captain Baker is a friend, Drexel.'

'You don't have friends,' Drexel sneered. 'You're a fucking knife in a dress.'

A thin smile curled Julia's lips. 'And people say you are charmless. Tell me where he is, or I'll send my husband. You know what I think of you, trust me he thinks less.'

Drexel reached and dragged a girl out from under the desk, ignoring her whining. She didn't, Julia thought with a flick of weak pity, look much older than Jason. Maybe 18, more likely 17. She wiped her hand over her mouth, smearing her lipstick further up her cheek.

'Did I do something wrong?' 

'Shut your fucking mouth,' Drexel told her. He pointed at Julia. Show her to Baker's room, and don't say a damn word to her on the way.'

The girl screwed up her face and hugged her arms. 'I still get-'

'Yes,' Drexel said impatiently, handing her a cloudy looking needle. 'Don't use it till you're done with the errand.'

The girl snatched the vial with greedy hands, sticking it up her sleeve, and darted out of the room before Drexel could change his mind. Julia followed without the courtesy of a goodbye, although she closed the door neatly behind her.

'You working here?' the girl asked, giving her a dubious look over her shoulder. 'You're a bit old.'

'I'd have thought you were a bit young.'

The girl twisted her mouth in not-a-smile. 'I'm not here for long,' she said. 'Get me a militia boy panting for what's between my legs? The rules are, he's got to marry me if he wants to take me along.'

'Cuts down on fighting,' Julia said, parroting Monroe's dictate with still-fresh annoyance. 

'Yeah, that's it,' the girl said as the crossed a large hall. She spat – Julia didn't blame, she'd want the taste of Drexel off her tongue – and looked at the whores and addicts sprawled on the red velvet couches. 'Get me the hell out of here.'

She took Julia upstairs and showed her to Room 325, then scurried off to shoot up. Julia thought about telling her the more of that she did, the less chance she had of leaving. Interfering directly in Drexel's business, though, was more of a risk than she was willing to take for someone she didn't know. Matheson favoured the man.

Julia listened for a second, someone was splashing around inside. Marvellous, there were some things she didn't want to see. She rapped the door and waited. When no-one answered, she tried the door. It wasn't locked. She twisted and braced herself for debauchery – instead it was just Jeremy in a hip-bath with bubbles and rubber ducks. A girl in a tight, lacy dress was pouring a bucket of steaming hot water in over his feet.

'Well,' Julia said, stepping inside and closing the door. 'This is less...icky...than I expected.'

He slouched down in the bath, knees popping out of the water, and gave her a soft, loopy smile. 'Julie!' he said. 'Julie Julie Jules.'

She gritted her teeth at that. 'Captain Baker.'

'You've seen my dick,' he said expansively. 'You can call me Jeremy.'

Julia stiffened, glaring at him. He gave her a smirk and waved an explanatory, dripping hand over his sudsy crotch.

The girl took it as an order and dropped to her knees, dipping a pruny, pink hand into the water. Jeremy tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded and watching Julia. She gave him a raised eyebrow and went over to sit on the bed, crossing her legs neatly at the ankle.

'So how long have you been in there?' she asked.

Jeremy peeled the girl's hand off his dick. 'Go get me a sandwich,' he said. She pouted but stood up, wobbling like a colt on stilt heels as she headed for the door. Jeremy screwed his face up intently and added, 'And wash your hands first!'

She slammed the door behind her. Jeremy slouched back down into the bath, water sloshing, and pretend-drowned his ducks.

'How long,' Julia prodded.

'What do you care?'

'Jeremy...'

'Just wham, bam, thank you, Jeremy,' he said, scowling at his ducks. 'So what fucks do you give, Julia? Enumerate them for me.'

'Three?' she said. 

That was how many times they'd fucked since Trenton, sticky and hurried and stupid. It wasn't exactly an affair – too haphazard and spur of the moment for that. He was sharp and occasionally nasty, he made her laugh. In his own way, his mind was as twisty around the corners as hers. She liked him. She loved Tom.

Jeremy laughed sourly and tossed her a duck. 'The lady wins a prize.'

She caught it before it hit her face, wrapping her fingers around the warm, yellow plastic. 'Stop being childish, Jeremy.'

He looked up slowly and the bleak, black expression in his eyes made her flinch. 'Childish?' he said, voice flicking with cruelty. 'What do you know about anything, Julia? Sitting at home, playing mama and pulling your apron strings. Does anything stick to you, Julia? Do you even feel clean after fucking me?'

Instinct made her want to retreat, but she got up and went over to the bath. She knelt down and rested her arms on the edge of the tub. 'Why wouldn't I, Jeremy? What happened.'

He lolled his head back against the tub, that loose smile on his face again. 'Give me a wank and I'll tell you, Jules.'

'I would,' Julia said. 'But that's pretty much a bath of skin flakes now.'

He laughed and reached down to grab a wine bottle, swigging it down. Julia reached for it take it away from him, but he grabbed her arm. 'Don't, Jules.'

'Julia.'

'Jesus,' he muttered, rolling his eyes. 'Throw me a fucking bone.'

She twisted her mouth and ceded him that. 'Fine, you can call me Jules,' she said. 'If you get out of the bath.'

He waved the bottle dismissively, 'I've not been in the bath that long.'

She pushed herself up and reached into the bath, grabbing his arms. 'Long enough. Come on, Jeremy.' It wasn't intentional, but her voice took on the sing-songy, coaxing cadence she used on Jason. 'Bath times' over, up and out.'

He pulled her down into the bath with him, water splashing up over the sides in a sudsy tide, and laughed when she gasped and hit him.

'Jeremy, I'm soaked,' she spluttered, trying to find somewhere to put her knees. Most of the bath was filled with Jeremy. 'Someone could come in.'

He curled his hands around her ass and pulled her down on top of him, nuzzling her hair out of the way to bite her ear. It made her shiver, the tug echoed between her thighs. 

'You ashamed of me, baby?' he asked.

'I'm married,' she reminded him. 'To your friend.'

'My best friend,' he said. 'Best fucking friend I have left.'

'Is that – is this – why you're-'

His hands flexed, digging into her bottom, and he scraped his teeth down her throat. 'No,' he said. 'Fuck it, if he's that good a friend he'd share.'

She thumped his shoulder again. 'Jeremy.'

He tugged her dress up, bunching the wet, red fabric between his fingers. 'I don't wanna tell you, Jules. Don't wanna see it when you look at me.'

'Me?' she said. 'I'm not easily shocked, Jeremy.'

'I know. Still not talking about it.' He discovered she wasn't wearing any panties and made a pleased noise, cupping her bare bottom in water-softened hands. 'For me?'

'For the dress,' she said quellingly. 'Which is ruined.'

He shrugged a heavy shoulder. 'I'll steal you a new one.' 

His dick rubbed against her thigh, hard and slick with bubbles, and he raised his eyebrows. 'You want to leave me, Jules?'

She slid her hands over his slippery chest, exploring the tanned planes of muscle. This was actually the first time she'd seen him naked, it had always been tugged aside clothing and slices of skin. He looked softer than Tom – who was all whipcord muscle and tension – but there was hard slabs of muscle under there. 

'No,' she admitted, glancing over her shoulder at the door. 'What if someone comes-'

He shifted under her, sitting up and adjusting her in his lap. She folded her legs around him, knees poking out of the water, dress hiked up around her hips and her bottom pressed against his hard erection. Jeremy reached up and pushed her hair out of her face, thumb tracing a damp curve over her cheek.

'Sweetheart, I've been here for three days,' he said. 'I'm pretty much wanked empty. It's a miracle I can even get it up. It's not gonna take me that long.'

'The fact I want to have sex with you worries me sometimes,' Julia said. She leant over and paused, lips not quite touching his. 'Did you fuck them?'

'Jealous?' he asked.

'I don't want a disease.'

'Hands only,' he said. 'I like my junk un-poxed.'

She kissed him, lips soft and closed. He tugged her back down and kissed her properly, mouth hungry and rough against hers. Untended stubble scraped her cheeks. Jeremy dropped his hands to her hips and lowered her onto his cock, burying the hard length of him inside her. Julia gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck, rocking her hips into his thrusts.

They didn't fit together. With Tom they'd been together so long, making love was like a dance. Jeremy was all enthusiasm and rough hands and clumsiness (and he bit, never hard enough to leave a mark, but it was still annoying). Water sloshed over the sides of the tub, soaking the floor, as she rocked her hips into his thrusts. Her elbow cracked the side of the tub and Jeremy snorted a laugh when she swore.

His hands flexed around her hips, pulling her closer and harder, and his breath was ragged against her throat. Julia ran her hands down his back and felt the wet ridges of new scar-tissue welting his back. It stretched and flexed under her palms as he moved under her, muscles clenching hard under his skin.

She kissed his ear and down, lips sliding over the rough stubble. Her body was tight and aching, arousal building in a hot twist low in her stomach. Jeremy groaned roughly into her throat and pulled her down onto him, his hips jerking hard as he came.

Shit.

He dropped back, elbows hooked over the tub, and stared at her, panting roughly. 'Sorry.'

Julia had grown up a good Catholic girl and she was in her thirties. She'd have to be very unlucky to get pregnant from one suds-adulterated orgasm. Of course, this wasn't a world that was coming down with good luck.

Shit.

And she was still aching, irritation was absolutely no good at dispelling horniness. Fine. She'd worry when she needed to worry, for now-

'You aren't finished,' she told Jeremy.

He pushed himself up off the tub and brushed a kiss over her mouth, hands caressing her thighs. 'I kinda am.' He lifted her off him, ignoring her squeak of protest, and climbed out of the bath. His back was a raw-looking mess, Julia's stomach twisted with completely unwelcome sympathy for the asshole. The scars were still pink and thin-looking, like they still might split.

'You aren't serious-'

The door rattled. Jeremy cocked his head. 'Ah, lunch. There's a bathroom if you wanna hide-'

Julia hated him. She scrambled out of the bath, dripping water, and ran over to the narrow bathroom door, squeezing through and slamming it behind her just in time. It was – as it suddenly occurred to her Jeremy might have lied – a bathroom. Once upon a time it had been a nice bathroom too, with a fancy shower and gold-leaf touched tiles – both cracked and shabby now.

It would have been perfect for a French farce. 

The bathrobes were clean enough, or looked it and smelt it. Julia stripped her wet dress off, the fabric sticking to her skin, and hung it over the old towel rail to dry. She doubted it would look good again, but perhaps she could get it passable. Or at least dry. She dragged a bathrobe on and knotted the belt around her wrist, perching gingerly on the edge of the bath.

After a minute Jeremy rapped the door. 'Jules,' he cozened. 'Come out, I was joking. I wouldn't leave you with blue-'  
She jerked the door open and shoved him, hands sliding on his wet chest. 'I'm not a whore, Jeremy. Go fester in your bath, I don't care what's wrong with you.'

Jeremy caught her wrists and reeled her into a hug, ignoring her swearing and fighting him. He propped his chin on her head and waited until she went resentfully still, breathing in the soapy-clean smell of him. 

'Get off me,' she muttered.

'No.'

'You can't just say no,' she said, kicking his shin.

'Look around you, Jules,' he said. 'We can do what we like.'

'Let me go,' she repeated firmly.

He sighed. 'It was bad. It doesn't matter how long I soak, I can't get clean.'

'I don't care.'

His arms tightened, squeezing until Julia could hardly breath. Her ribs creaked in protest. 'Don't say that. Stay with me.'

'I can't.'

His voice went creaky and he nuzzled her hair, breath stirring the strands. 'Please? Just this once. To talk, that's what Tom wanted right?'

There was, Julia thought, a point at which two twisty people cancelled each other out and ended up straightforward. She reluctantly leaned into his body, her arms coming up to splay her fingers over those fresh, raw scars.

'I can stay a while,' she said.


End file.
